Ritual Union
by everythingscopacetic
Summary: Santana wants to change. Brittany doesn't have it in her anymore to believe her. Drug-related.
1. Chapter 1

I know, I know. It's too soon to post anything drug-related, especially when it's the drug that was used, but tonight I was randomly looking through my notes from last year and I came across this. I can't believe I wrote this and really don't remember ever writing it due to having done a cocktail of this and other drugs as well during the time I had written it. I am very glad to say that I no longer do it. I've had situations dealing with heroin and a person I love and it's just truly very tragic to see what happens to a person, especially an addict. Especially someone who you love and deeply care about. And I'm sorry if this offends anyone that I put this up. It's very short and not at all graphic in its drug content.

I hope Cory Monteith is in a better place, if there is one. I hope in his last few days, that he had found some happiness. I know that it's stupid to mention, but I hear ODing is a heavenly way to go. All you feel is how good and clear everything is. Stupid, I know, but may he rest in peace. My heart goes out to the people he's touched in his life.

* * *

_I can't.._

Tears drop from your face to the carpet as you shake your head.

_I can't do this anymore. _

You're staring at the floor because you can't look at her when you're saying this, when she's like that. She's nodding out on the couch in front of you, the cigarette between her fingers burnt to the butt, her half-lidded eyes barely focused on you.

_Britt.._

She whimpers your name. She's using everything she's got in her to talk, to get ahold of your eyes, but you won't let her.

_I'll stop. I promise. Britt, honey, please. Please look at me. _

She sits up straighter when you raise your head. Her face is thinner than you remember and the lump in your throat doubles in size.

_ I've said that.. a bunch, I know.._

Her voice is raspy, and you curse yourself for loving it that way. You can tell she hasn't left that couch in hours when she struggles to pick herself up. She drags her feet to where you are and wraps her fingers around the arm you've got across your chest. You shiver and she notices. You let go of your grip on your right bicep to let her hand drop from your arm. A look on her makes it seem like you've slapped her, but that face doesn't quite seem to work on you anymore.

_I've tried, Santana. _

You're a lot calmer than the previous times you've had this conversation with her, but the tears somehow still find their way onto the carpet.

_I've tried so hard to get you clean, to get you healthy, to make you happy but-_

She grabs ahold of you then, her frail fingers try their hardest to wrap around your arms. She slightly crouches down to try to get you to look into her eyes.

_You make me happy, Brittany, you do, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so, so sorry._

She falls to her knees and hugs your legs as best as she can. She's still apologizing, her wet cheek pressed against your thigh.

You can't seem to feel anything anymore. Not even for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**TW**:Somewhat of Drug-Abuse

* * *

_Hey.._

She slips her hand down your arm and traces her thumb along your wrist. She leans into your ear, her warm, smoky whispers heat the side of your face.

_We can leave whenever you want, okay? _

You nod, or you feel like you did. The both of you are squished on a small couch with a girl who's named after some kind of state or city, you can't quite remember. After the last hit of this seemingly never-ending blunt that you just passed over to whoever was to your left, your mind has gone completely hazy.

_Britt? _

Her voice is soft, her thumb still tracing lines on your wrist. She must have sensed your anxiety, but you just blame it on the mild paranoia that sets in the pit of your stomach every time you smoke. But really, the reason why you're at all nervous is probably because of the new drug paraphernalia that seems to have appeared on the coffee table. You've seen it before. Quinn's dog had diabetes before she passed away a few years ago and you remember you couldn't stand to watch her give Dorothy her shots.

_Babe? _

You feel the word spoken into your cheek before a light kiss pulls you back down into this loveseat you're sat in. Catching yourself zoning out, you look to her hand still on your arm.

_I'm fine, San. I'll probably just snort it instead though._

She gently hooks her index finger under your chin and tilts your head to kind of face her. She smooths down an end of your lips with her thumb, something she does when you have a frown on, you've realized.

_You know you don't have to do this stuff, right? _

You feel the slight curl of your lips reach her thumb.

_Of course. I promise you._

You grab ahold of her hand and kiss the back of it.

_I'm fine._

Nothing seems to be off limits to the both of you together, it seems like. It's quite exciting.

_Hell yeah, she is. _

The other two girls chime in in their seductive twang, with one strapping a belt around the other's lower bicep.

_Shut your whore mouths._

She averts your attention back to her lips. Her voice, always so much more rugged when she's fucked up, strips your anxiety away and melts to the bottom of your stomach. But she's not the only thing to completely wash over you. Not tonight.


End file.
